


A Christmatsu Carol

by MoonlightWinterDXXIX



Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, おそ松くん| Osomatsu-kun (Anime 1988), おそ松さん | Osomatsu-san (Anime)
Genre: -Ish, Alternate Universe, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Childhood Friends, Dreams and Nightmares, Fairy Tale Retellings, Family Bonding, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Ghosts of Christmas, Implied Relationships, Modern Retelling, Money, S3 spoilers, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28262457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightWinterDXXIX/pseuds/MoonlightWinterDXXIX
Summary: With the movie’s success and the continuous premiering of Osomatsu-san’s third season, titular character Osomatsu Matsuno feels greedy and proud during Christmas. He needs to remember his worth, so it’s not surprising that three familiar-looking spirits decide to take a trip to his home on Christmas Eve for a journey of self-discovery that might help him.(Based on Charles Dickens’s novel, ‘A Christmas Carol’)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	A Christmatsu Carol

**Author's Note:**

> Annnnddd Merry Christmas, everyone!!! 🎄🎁🎄🎁 Here I have so far the LONGEST oneshot I have ever written, reaching 18.9K words 😅😆 I wanted to be able to make this fit in maybe at most 15K, but I guess that couldn’t happen and I was stuck with just making sure I included all the important details I wanted to add and more uwu
> 
> That being said, I suppose this will be the last fic I would be able to write this 2020 😳 Wow, it feels not so long ago since i was working on TVV x’D Either way, I hope you guys will like this year’s finale of a fanfic from me 😌
> 
> So this is a retelling of ‘A Christmas Carol’ by Charles Dickens, BUT there are a few differences, surely. Tbh I haven’t read the entire book yet, but I HAVE watched different adaptations of the story in different cartoons! 😊 So I just incorporated what I can into the fic, so I hope they’re still okay regardless and the story stays alright to you! 
> 
> (Also if others have had this idea already before I’m sorry I haven’t seen them obviously and just wanted to do my own take on how this story could be like huhu)
> 
> Also, S3 spoilers up to s3e10! Hafta get this warning out too x’DD And there’s Osokun 1988 references thrown back and forth too, specifically the Christmas special episode! 🤍❤️💚🤍❤️💚 
> 
> Alright, that’s all I have to say for the beginning notes! Thank you all so much for picking up my Osomatsu-san rendition of ‘A Christmas Carol!’ I hope you all have wonderful holidays ahead of you ✨✨✨❤️💙💚💜💛💖

It wasn’t long since the movie premiered and the third season was booming with attention. It wasn’t long since unexpected character development, introductions to plenty of new possibilities, and more greens to receive. Osomatsu Matsuno grinned proudly to himself as he let his fingers slide over each gold coin on his desk, each sheet of paper tampered with the print of Fujio Akatsuka’s face. 

Their creator. The man that, if it hadn’t been for him, the Showa era would’ve been the conclusion for the Matsuno sextuplets and this Reiwa time would’ve been a daydream. 

Yet the fluorescent lights here in his office in Studio Pierrot buzzed, flickering from white to nothing at all. Osomatsu sighed, craning his attention from the earnings spread across his desk as he leaned forward, raising his stature to see past the piles of money neatly stacked on his desk. At the sight of Osomatsu, the employee nearly dropped his screwdriver, but the clang against the ladder was unpleasant enough that trying to defend himself from Osomatsu’s disappointment was inevitable.

“You’re taking your time trying to fix that light, Jyushimatsu,” Osomatsu said lamely, but his tone was enough to send the younger man flinching and perspiring.

“I-It’s not that!” Jyushimatsu stammered, rearranging the ladder quickly and stepping over it. He raised himself until he was just below the flickering light, screwdriver at the ready in his free hand. “I-It’s just really cold and quiet! I-I just feel a little bit uneasy, that’s all. It’s why I can’t seem to concentrate with work. Ah...”

Osomatsu puffed a shallow breath. Of course it was cold—it was snowing outside, and the formal greeting of Christmas was only due in the next few hours. Employment for the third season of Osomatsu-san would go on a hiatus with each member of the community spending time with their families, being happy when in their own cartoon they were unsuccessful NEETs with nothing but their pride to blame for their misery.

After, of course, the Christmas party scheduled for tomorrow.

Osomatsu was a moron in the cartoon, and he pretty much was still one in reality. He loved to gamble, for life was one to him with all its twists and rough roads. Horse races were another excellent way to gain money outside working as the protagonist of Akatsuka’s works. 

But unlike Osomatsu was in fiction, Osomatsu outside it had plenty of achievements in his life, being the head of the series and director to how he wanted each plotline to go. Of course, producers were early to take different routes from time to time, but at the end Osomatsu still stood out as the  _ niisan,  _ partly plain but entirely relevant.

They might’ve been replaced by eighteen different Matsu’s though once, but that was just a temporary conflict and they had filmed the first episode with genuine laughter and handshakes. Soon enough, their business was back in full swing, with their roles expanding and their skits staying beloved. Their new AI pair were popular among fans, and Ichimatsu’s character rose more than ever. Only a few more works of fan service remained before the entire series became a one-hundred percent score to everyone else’s eyes.

Giddily, Osomatsu plopped back down on his seat, once again counting all the money on his desk. He muttered each number under his breath with stifled excitement, his mind running with places where his money would go. Pachinko, the races,  _ women... _ Osomatsu was in a paradise spreading out, destinations hard to reach but not impossible might he decide the journey.

The light stopped flickering, and Jyushimatsu climbed down the ladder as he rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. He then turned to Osomatsu before hesitantly stepping forward, brown eyes on the floor. “Osomatsu-niisan, I, uh...” He trailed off.

Osomatsu raised an eyebrow. 

Jyushimatsu gulped. “It’s already nine in the evening, and my girlfriend is waiting for me at the dinner table right now,” he revealed humbly, intertwining his fingers under his jacket. “Would...Would it be alright if I could leave now? A-And...Would it be alright if...If you can give me my income? Hah, considering it’s the season of Christmas, I’d gladly welcome that as my Christmas gift...” He smiled nimbly. His eyes reflected with a faint outline of fear.

Osomatsu smirked. “Yeah sure. Use the money to find yourself a better meal, huh, Jyushimatsu?” He grabbed a bill from the lowest stack and extended it over to his ‘brother.’ Jyushimatsu took it feebly, a spark of excitement brightening his face before it faltered in the next second. Osomatsu said, “Heh, something wrong?”

“Two-hundred yen,” Jyushimatsu replied, looking upwards from the money. “This is my pay, Osomatsu-niisan?” 

“Meh, so far you’ve done very little this season, not gonna lie,” Osomatsu said casually, leaning backwards and slumping against his red backrest. “I mean, would watching over Ichimatsu really count as something big? And babysitting the Riceballs? Maybe if your ass was exposed as much as Karamatsu’s and you had people screaming about it, sure I’ll up your pay. But at the moment, what’s it for you?” He chuckled, tapping his fingers against the desk again.

“This...This can’t buy much for my family,” Jyushimatsu rasped, complexion going albino. “T-There’s so much we need! I-I don’t know what this will be able to—”

“Combine it with their own paychecks,” Osomatsu suggested, spinning his chair lazily with a grin, shutting his eyes. “Problem solved, right? Although I have no idea how much that differs from you since your companions haven’t done a single thing to escalate this season. How unfortunate of you guys, huh? Ha-ha.” 

Osomatsu breathed in relief, satisfied with his luck compared to the other man’s. Although Osomatsu himself hadn’t done too much this season either, he was still the protagonist and therefore had his money coming to him.

Gritting his teeth, Jyushimatsu forced out, “You know, you’re acting really vain. All you want is everything working for you, not caring how this affects others. Is this what Fujio Akatsuka would’ve wanted when he made us, niisan? Because if so, then I don’t know why I’m still even here. I might as well just have tried rebooting Bakabon into something better when it was still more-known.”

Saying nothing, Osomatsu just waved a careless, uninterested and dismissive hand at Jyushimatsu.

Insult and injury wrapping his heart, Jyushimatsu licked his lips and hugged his arms, controlling his emotions when they just wanted to rage out and break his sturdy character. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it, Osomatsu-niisan? Why are you behaving like this? I know we once had an episode about us hating it, but is this really how you feel about it? Why?”

Bored with Jyushimatsu’s flows of inquiry, Osomatsu’s arms crossed over his suit. “Look, I won’t say I hate Christmas, but it’s kind of pointless, isn’t it? Like, putting it in the context of the season’s meaning: We’re supposed to be a family but spend our days working instead of hanging out. It ruins what we’re supposed to have as brothers. So instead, we’re nothing but each others’ employees. Not to mention, it’s just lame. Why celebrate something when you can just spend each of your days being happy? Why wait until the holidays when you can gain something good everyday? I don’t get it—we should just be able to continue on with our lives instead of taking breaks and getting ourselves uninspired.”

Frowning slightly, Jyushimatsu let out, “Is that what you really feel? People look forward to Christmas because they’re not us lucky as  _ you.  _ They don’t star in any shows, only look forward to ours. If anything,  _ we  _ should be the ones inspiring them for Christmas.”

“We do that to them each time we release an episode,” Osomatsu snapped, tone dirty. “So it’s always just a win-win for everyone. And thus I come back to my point, what’s the point of Christmas? Nothing. We can be happy everyday, but others choose to suffer instead of finding ways to be productive with their lives. So who’s to blame for their lack of satisfaction on normal days?”

Stiffening, Jyushimatsu tightened his arms at his sides.

The office chair pushed back, and Osomatsu stretched his legs to a stand, coming around the table towards Jyushimatsu. His heavy-lidded gaze fell on his brother, studying him dully. “Some people are just too kind that they forget what it’s like to be strong for themselves. They let the world pester them because they fight for nothing. They are cowardly. They make themselves suffer because they don’t try to end it.  _ This  _ is why Christmas exists, because it’s an excuse for people to be happy when they can’t everyday.”

Bowing his head, Jyushimatsu stared at the floor, visibly allowing Osomatsu’s words to enter him. When he spoke again, it was small but certain, a surprising sentence. “We can’t say anything because we respect people like  _ you.  _ Because we do not want to offend you or make you feel bad. But sometimes people really are just heartless, aren’t they?” 

Osomatsu blew a raspberry. “I’m not heartless.”

“You gave me two-hundred yen because my scripts are always limited? How is that fair at all?” Jyushimatsu demanded, swiping the money angrily. “I am both in-show and out your younger  _ brother,  _ Osomatsu-niisan. We aren’t going to live until the end as just  _ employees. _ And the reason I don’t talk back at you all the time is because I care about you, and because I know your leadership will lead to the success of Akatsuka’s works. It has nothing to do with lost confidence. It’s all about not letting you down.”

“And yet you complain to me about the money I gave you,” Osomatsu stated bluntly, posture poised. “Make up your mind, Jyushimatsu.”

“I...” He paused, knuckles whitened over his balled fists. Jyushimatsu’s expression, clouded in shadow, only allowed osomatsu to glimpse his tight lips and strained muscles. “Fine, whatever. Just know that the only reason I’m still here is because you’re my brother, and I enjoy working with everyone on set. Ichimatsu-niisan and the others, Totoko-chan, the Riceballs, even Chibita and Hatabou. That, and I continue with gratitude for Akatsuka-sensei’s choice for making us come to life, and the ability of everyone to keep us all alive to this day. But if it weren’t for any of that, maybe I would’ve been in an even better life than you, and I wouldn’t even really call you my niisan at all anymore.”

A pause. Then Osomatsu just rolled his eyes wordlessly, unveiling nothing to how he felt.

Dipping his body, Jyushimatsu unevenly said, “Until next time, Osomatsu. Merry Christmas. Thank you for the money.” Then he turned away, the sound of the door opening and closing following before Osomatsu was left alone in his office.

* * *

When Osomatsu woke up, it was because he felt the chill of the outside prickle against his skin. The snowstorm whisked in a merciless typhoon outside the window of his apartment, the crimson curtains rustling faintly over the hints of wind managing to creep in through tiny gaps. Osomatsu tossed and turned on his bed, ruffling his already-present bedhead as he moaned in complaint. He bent his knees, hugged his own pillow, punched the space ahead of him if it helped him warm his body enough to fall asleep again.

But no matter how much he tried to distract himself from the cold, it was like the wind continued to whisper against his body, breathe against it. Osomatsu felt his entire form tremble as the cold exhales of nature pecked his body, rendered him sleepless. Osomatsu whined in vulnerable protest, shifting and toppling his body with his blanket. 

No such luck. He kept hearing the wind, kept feeling the wind, kept behaving like a caged and vulnerable little boy under its god-touched control.

_ Whoosh, whoosh, whooo, whooo~ _

Osomatsu curled into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut. He mouthed profanities into his pillow as his knees met his chin. His clothes and blanket were icicles at contact. It’s like he was in a graveyard swarmed by a blizzard, the cold bones of the undead mixing with the air trying to cling to heat and warmth where they had lost it. But even heat can get snuffed out by the cold, if it was overwhelmed enough. 

For this scenario, that heat and warmth was Osomatsu, dying in the chilly atmosphere, burdened by the ice haunting him when all he wanted was to wake up to the neutral air of another day. 

_ Whoosh, whoosh, whooo, whooo~ _

_ Clang~ _

The sound was then mightily solid, like chains against the floor. Osomatsu assumed that perhaps the sound was from outside, where perhaps the wind had detached a chain from its lock, or something of a similar situation. Heh, whatever.

Osomatsu sniffed as he tried to collect the blackness of slumber absent from behind his eyelids, but found no such fortune in this. He counted sheep, but the sheep went on to hundreds without end. Sleep was getting irritatingly impossible.

_ Whoosh, whoosh, whooo, whooo~ _

_ Clang~ _

_ Osomatsu, zansu. _

Huh? Osomatsu stopped his attempts to sleep, trying to find an answer to the question now bubbling in his mind. That was Iyami’s voice, wasn’t it? With that altered accent of Suzumura and that ending of -zansu. Wasn’t Iyami on some kind of Sheeeh olympics in the latest release or something? And a self-discovery journey? 

Ah, perhaps Osomatsu had already fallen asleep and was now hearing his dreams. Maybe as cold as he was, he was already asleep. If he saw Iyami’s face next time, he could conclude lucid dreaming and who the sleep paralysis demon of his is. 

“That’s not very nice, zansu.”

_ Eh?  _ Osomatsu bolted at how solid the voice was, and how  _ close  _ it was to him. His blanket left him as the mattress abruptly creaked beneath his weight, and he shot up from lying down. His eyes darted through the dim, blue-lit space in front of him, his cabinet and the clothes slung over a chair. Nothing signifying Iyami’s presence, nor the probability of sleep paralysis. He was still moving—could move, so—

“Oi. Me is right next to you, zansu.”

_ “Ehh?!”  _ Osomatsu’s head snapped to his side, and soon he was letting out a scream of surprise and terror as he shimmied off his bed and collided to the floor at the other side. He immediately got upright again to stare in horrified disbelief, words clogged in his throat as he tried to register what he just saw. 

Apparently though, Iyami had screeched a “Sheeeh!” the same time that Osomatsu had yelled, as Iyami went to the process of lowering his arms and leg to yell ferociously at Osomatsu.  _ “What is wrong with you, zansu?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” _

_ “How did you get inside?! Out! Get out of my apartment right now!”  _ Osomatsu ordered, pointing to the door. “Get the hell away from here—you that much of a creep watching people sleep!? Aren’t you on a self-discovery journey or some-shit?!”

“Me was, zansu!” Iyami bellowed, spreading his arms slowly. “But me died during my climb up Mt. Takao because of it! Me blames those scriptwriters for putting  _ moi  _ in the position teaching those baby freshmen robots of yours me’s iconic gag! Hmph!” Iyami lifted his nose. “Me refuses to forgive you for that, Todomatsu! Me has to visit you because of death conditions now, zansu! Me wants so live in the afterlife with kind glory—!”

“I’m  _ Osomatsu!”  _ he corrected irritably, rubbing his temples. “You literally just said it correctly earlier! And what the hell do you even mean by  _ dead?  _ You’re completely—oh...” The realization hit him and faded his vexation.

Groaning, Iyami rubbed his nape. “You see now, zansu. I am attached to these chains—it’s like some kind of punishment after death, me thinks. The Shinigami salesman never said anything about these kinds of things in the afterlife before.” Iyami modeled himself off a little, allowing Osomatsu to get a general view of him. 

It was true, as Iyami’s outline blurred into the back, his complexion mightily translucent. His tattered purple suit was more gray than its original vibrant color, his hair slightly disheveled and messy. Attached to his wrists, to his ankles, and to his waist, were metal shackles with chains extending behind him, bounded at the ends with heavy orbs of metal, with the one attached to his waist ending with an anvil. Each metal ender had kanji’s scribbled on them: 

_ ‘Iyami’s divine punishment, zansu.’ _

“O...kay,” Osomatsu said, repositioning himself as he sat at the end of his bed. “Are...Are you sure you’re not pretending to be a ghost again so you can earn condolence money from everyone? That act is so 1988.”

“No, zansu! That was so long ago—how do you still remember that?!” He tapped his chin, snark. “On the other hand, me must’ve been a genius for it to remain in your memories for a long time!  _ Ushyo-shyo-shyo!”  _ he laughed.

Osomatsu was unfazed. “Still, this doesn’t excuse you for coming to my house in the middle of the night! Get away from here so I can catch up on sleep again, unless I’ll be playing vampire tomorrow and will need to sleep in after you toy with me all night.”

“Hmm, not the case actually, zansu,” Iyami said, shaking his head. “Me was sent here because I needed to repent if me wanted to be able to get rid of these chains. Since me was a greedy, money-lusting man in my life, me was tortured at death by receiving these chains. This isn’t supposed to be this way though! Dickens wrote Jacob Marley to have been as rich as Scrooge but me is far from wealthy at all, zansu! I’m just being tortured!”

“So what?” Osomatsu yawned. “What does anything have to do with me? Hurry up so you can leave just as fast.”

Iyami’s face grew serious, and Osomatsu’s eyebrows rose. “Tonight, I came to you to tell you that if you continue misbehaving during Christmas, you will end up like me when you die, zansu. So in order to change your fate, you must improve yourself and be less spoiled and greedy as you are now, Karamatsu. Be kind on the day of Christmas, be good to the rest of your brothers and friends. You will be visited by three spirits after me tonight to help you in accomplishing this task.”

“Seriously? Tch, what a chore.” Osomatsu plopped down to bed, eyebrows wrinkled as he let his lashes brush his cheeks. “Like, whatever, man, I’m just dreaming. Good luck with being able to save yourself from your agonies, Iyami, but I don’t think I’m the correct address. I’m perfectly fine as I am now, so just take your chains and leave. How I spend my Christmas is my choice, and mine only. Leave me to my life while you deal with yours please. Goodnight.”

Screeching, Iyami stuck out his tongue. “You bastard, zansu! You’ll get what me means soon! Fine! Be that way! Me won’t need to say, ‘Me told you so’ when you die and look like me when you enter the afterlife! The Shinigami salesman will laugh at you, zansu! You’ll regret your actions!”

Osomatsu didn’t reply, merely scoff at the argument. Then nothing, the world silencing around him, as if he actually did manage to fall asleep again, and the cold, chilly air of the raging snowstorm outside no longer served as a bother.

* * *

The cold returned a few moments later, once again digging shards of ice against Osomatsu’s body. He had wrapped himself into his blanket with a whimper of disappointment, clenching his anatomy into a ball as he tried to get the shaking to stop. But again the whispers came to his ear of the howling wind, though this time (thankfully) not accompanied with Iyami’s shackles and chains, nor Iyami as a whole in that matter.

But dissimilar to Iyami who had taken his time to haunt Osomatsu’s pathetic attempt to rest with a ghostly introduction, Osomatsu’s next guest went right for it with a gentle whisper. A thumb caressing Osomatsu’s eyebrow, he leaned down towards his ear, mumbling, “Osomatsu, my brother. Your guest has arrived. Shall we venture off now to a trip expressing who you once were in the past?”

The low cadence of the spirit gave away the identity taking the role of the ghost of Christmas past, and Osomatsu opened his tired eyes into a frown fixed with fatigue (and forced fury he expressed through sarcasm). “Wow. Somehow I am not surprised. Great to see you in my bedroom too as a ghost, Karamatsu.”

“A dazzling ghost,  _ non?”  _ Karamatsu boasted, posing with his fingers to his brows, his other hand stretched out. 

He gave Osomatsu the opportunity to observe his chosen clothing: unlike Iyami who wore a torn-up version of his casual suit, Karamatsu had dressed for the occasion. And by dressed, got himself looking as painful in white as Karamatsu could manage. 

Along with disheveled hair, Karamatsu had his body covered up with a white bathrobe, a golden chain necklace of his hanging around his neck. As he finished posing for Osomatsu, he walked towards the dresser where he had left a glass of wine, the burgundy liquor inside it catching the tidbits of light peeking out from wherever source. In the faint illumination of the room, his whole form was sea-through, glowing with a faint blue light. 

But still, he was nowhere close to being  _ dazzling,  _ unless dazzling was synonymous to absolutely  _ painful. _

“Dazzling? You call a bathrobe dazzling?” Osomatsu deadpanned.

“Heh. Am I not?” Karamatsu plopped himself on the bed, taking a sip of his wine as he crossed one leg over the other. As he swallowed with a sounded  _ Aah,  _ he said, “So, Osomatsu, to cut to the chase. I hear you’ve been quite cross this Christmas, no? This is what I have heard.”

Darn, to hell with gossip. Osomatsu stifled a scoff. “Bah, don’t listen to Iyami,” Osomatsu scorned, leaning back against his pillows. “You know he’s always full of shit, so don’t bother. If I were you I’d just part to where ghosts part, since you’re one as well. Unless you’re just some random ghost taking over the looks and form of my brother, then just leave him alone and get out of my sight.”

“Heh.” An air of voicelessness.  _ “Brother, _ you say? I wouldn’t have thought you’d so openly address me as the sort, Osomatsu,” Karamatsu said.

“Hm?” Osomatsu lowered a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, based on what I heard about your conversation with Jyushimatsu, we’re basically just employees to you, aren’t we?” Karamatsu told him. He didn’t sound offended nor angry nor sad about that, Osomatsu noticed. Just...factual. Just letting Osomatsu know what he was aware of, the information mattering zero to him. 

Curiosity dawning over, Osomatsu gave Karamatsu the chance to continue. 

“However, perhaps once upon a time, you might have thought otherwise than what you uttered to our poor, younger sibling earlier tonight. You might be brought up by greed now, brother, but you still care so much about us deep down. You just need someone to help you realize it.” He smirked, letting a pair of anime eyes sparkle. “Heh, which is why I am here. My purpose is to take you to when you were a kind and innocent young lad, as to remind you of what you once were in opposition to who you are now. I wish you would have a change of heart, but it is for our journey to decide.”

“So...” Osomatsu scratched his head. “What? We take a pill or something? Or—?”

_ “Heh!” _ The ghost got up and marched towards the window, shoving it open with an elbow. But when Osomatsu expected the cold and merciless wind to blast them in their faces, the cold remained outside and kept the temperature of the room stationary. 

Osomatsu, bewildered, had no words to say. 

“We are venturing out through the window, my brother,” Karamatsu said, proudly beaming. “Come! And we shall circle the city until we find the right spot back when Akatsuka Ward was Akatsukadai.”

He beckoned Osomatsu with a hand. It was a simple flip of his palm, lined blue with the frosts of winter that touched his shape. Osomatsu hesitated, pulling a knee over and resting his jaw on it. An adventure into the night, as interesting as it sounded, was tampering with his hopes for rest. And he had more plots to discuss in the morning with the admin team of the anime and—

“Worry not, Osomatsu,” Karamatsu interrupted, offering Osomatsu a tender smile. His brown eyes shone in the winter moonlight, his tousled hair and pearly robe flapping in the wind as if he were truly there. “This will waste none of your time. Perhaps you are uncertain now, but I assure you that maybe after this your heart will drum a new rhythm.”

Heh, leave it to Karamatsu to come up with the most painful of reassurances. At the sentence of his brother Osomatsu couldn’t help but smirk, giving in to his inquisitive temptation and getting up from the bed. He jogged towards Karamatsu at the window, the wind doing little to affect him, and with a brief nod Karamatsu brought down his glass of wine and bent beneath the windowsill. He climbed outside, gesturing to Osomatsu to follow shortly after he had transitioned completely. 

As the ghost climbed against the closest ledge (ghosts needed to climb? Apparently so, Osomatsu thought), he grabbed Osomatsu’s arm and hoisted him after him, allowing Osomatsu’s spare hand to grab the wall in support. This gave Osomatsu the opportunity of balance as he too left the hollowness of his room.

As the two of them clung to the side of the apartment, the evening breeze tugging past them, Osomatsu was struck by the colors. Snow that fell over the iridescent night of  _ not _ Akatsuka Ward, but their childhood home Akatsuka  _ District,  _ with tons of people walking down the streets plenty of feet under them in jolly celebration. Jingles saturated the night, accompanied with the cheerful hollering of children, carols lining every corner as each building blazed with light. 

The Christmas rainbow danced in Osomatsu’s eyes as he absorbed everything, the world he had just been trying to sleep on.

“Osomatsu,” Karamatsu called, and with Osomatsu lifting his attention, Karamatsu’s translucent form blended in with blinking yellow and red lights. As above them, over the few windows and the building top of what was once Osomatsu’s apartment, was a tall building with its name plastered in bold letters at either side, just below the beams that formed the face of its owner. It was a familiar place, certainly, a part of the early stages of the Matsuno brothers under the care of Studio Pierrot, and it was blooming before them as if it always was there to begin with.

“The Da...Dayyoon Hotel?” Osomatsu breathed, and he saw his breath fog up his front. “But...This setting first premiered on December 24 back in 1988, didn’t it?”

“You are correct, my brother,” Karamatsu said vivaciously, continuing to climb up the side of the apartment as he aided Osomatsu. The Dayyoon Hotel blasted with music and its own form of successful revelry. “And it is one perfect opportunity for us to remember the innocent, child-like lives we had upon celebration here.”

The pair finished up their climb until they were across a window, sealed with glass. Karamatsu merely pushed the material and it opened like a door; the two slipped into the building and left the night behind. 

What they entered was the old staff room of the hotel, and Osomatsu remembered the revelry exploding in the room when the success of the late-night show had blessed them following their episode’s conclusion. Totoko’s singing had made up for Frank Hatabou’s late arrival, and the wanted saxophonist Iyami had been in as much celebration as the rest of them.

This was the sight beholding itself right now—Totoko and Chibita, dancing at the center of the room with pure joy illuminating their features, Iyami presenting some saxophone skills to a dismayed Frank Hatabou, and the owner himself Dayon welcoming Dekapan as the chubby man returned from a night stuck in the storm with his vehicle.

Then Osomatsu saw himself with his brothers. As their roles as staff in the hotel for the scripting of this episode, the boys were all dancing amongst themselves at the opposite corner of the room. Karamatsu and Todomatsu were waltzing in a joking manner as Todomatsu intentionally stomped on Karamatsu’s feet, Jyushimatsu and Ichimatsu guffawing as they chomped down on their third servings of chicken by the table next to them. Choromatsu was leaning against the wall with a lollipop in his mouth, wording his mockery over how despite the ugly performance of the sextuplets earlier that night, they had still managed to succeed.

And young Osomatsu was there, nodding approvingly next to him. 

“We were laughing about how one of us kept tripping on his roller skates earlier,” the ghost Karamatsu reminded, once again having his glass of whine in hand as he longingly stared at the sight of their youth. “So Totty was teasing me, and Jyushimatsu and Ichimatsu were trying to make themselves tired enough that they’d mess up next time too. Then Choromatsu was just commenting on it randomly.”

“Yeah...” Osomatsu agreed, lost in the image of it all. “All six of us were such good sports even when we had literally humiliated ourselves in front of everyone we knew.”

“Mhm.” Karamatsu took a sip of his wine. “But I hear, there might be some conflicts when it came to you, Osomatsu.”

“Huh?”

The ghost began to walk, traveling by sticking close to the walls as to avoid the bursts of energy brimming the room. The two adults stopped next to the ten year-olds Osomatsu and Choromatsu, and what once were memories for Osomatsu replayed in front of him as the young voices of Choromatsu and himself were exposed to their hearing.

“We should be getting dances from Totoko-chan as well,” Choromatsu whined, bobbing a leg irritably. The lollipop muffled his voice. “We were the ones that kept the show ongoing before Chibita arrived—we should get even a little appreciation for that! Just because we’re all pretty much screw-ups doesn’t mean that our help did nothing!”

“Relax, Choromatsu,” young Osomatsu said, shrugging in amusement over his brother’s disapproval. “Don’t give up hope just yet! Maybe she’ll still approach one or all of us tonight, and it won’t be a problem at all! Look on the bright side! It’s Christmas, after all. We don’t want you being all grumpy this Christmas, do we?”

Choromatsu considered. “Meh, I guess you’re right. If it doesn’t happen though then it’ll be a waste of time. Should we just go out for a snowball fight or something? This is lame.”

“Nah, let’s just stay here. Todomatsu and Karamatsu seem to be having fun. Look at them.” The young duo glanced at the dancing pair, just as Todomatsu grabbed Karamatsu by the arm, and spun him at a dizzying speed. Karamatsu protested as he twisted off towards Jyushimatsu and Ichimatsu’s direction, the two other boys crying out in surprise as they darted sidewards and let Karamatsu crash against the table. As Karamatsu saw stars in his vision, everyone else burst out laughing, even their two invisible observers.

“True, true,” Choromatsu said, fixing the collar of his navy blue uniform. “Thanks, Osomatsu.”

“No problem, heh.” Osomatsu elbowed Choromatsu’s side, and the two snorted playfully.

Hah, such a precious pair...When  _ was  _ the last time Osomatsu and Choromatsu had a proper bonding time like that? It kind of came hazy for him to recall: genuine smiles and playful nudges, a feathery and soft atmosphere that had encased them both. They didn’t have as many moments of innocent fun when all they ever focused on lately were the tired hues of work, reality, the pain of the past, the joy in silence. Osomatsu had caught Choromatsu during a little inappropriate privacy once, then their time on New Year was short-lived due to their decision atop an icy cliff. Not to mention  _ that  _ specific occasion, when Choromatsu had made the choice to go...

Nah, they really did have isolation nowadays. It was unexpectedly heartbreaking to see them so close during the past this way. He kind of missed when he considered Choromatsu his best friend. 

“Matsuno-kun?”

Everyone turned their heads to the sound of her voice, and they all saw Totoko with her beautiful red dress streaming around her. She giggled as their cheeks went cherry, and she stopped walking as soon as she was across the two boys leaning against the wall. “Is it alright if I managed to have a dance with you? I want to thank you for stalling the performance a little even when it ended up less likable than the following one. If you turn me down it’s okay too,” she added nicely.

Young Choromatsu’s face was a tomato. Young Osomatsu gulped.

“Um...” Totoko tapped her bottom lip. “I remember someone named, ah...Osomatsu-kun?”

_ “That’s me!” _ Young Osomatsu quickly informed, straightening and lifting a hand. “That’s me! I’m Osomatsu-kun! The other one’s not him,  _ I’m  _ Osomatsu-kun, at your service!” He bowed to her.

“Eh?!” Choromatsu’s features warped in disbelief. 

“Ooh!” Totoko clapped. “Is it alright if we danced a bit? Just one song at least and I—”

“Yes!” Little Osomatsu was right next to her in an instant, linking their arms as he delicately spun her towards the direction of the dance floor with a grin. “Shall we, miss? You look absolutely stunning, it’s a miracle such a wonderful talent like you would approach ‘lil ol’ me.”

“Oh stop,” she giggled bashfully, allowing him to lead them towards the center of the room. 

They began to accompany the music, Osomatsu’s complexion as red as her dress as he tried to summon the skills he had in ballet. The grace, the smooth transitions into a waltz as he held her waist in his hand, as their fingers threaded through one another. Her hand on his shoulder felt so soft, so relaxed, and Osomatsu was a mess trying to decide what to say and what to do. It only made her chuckle at his lack of professionalism.

“Man, I was such a klutz,” the present visitor Osomatsu laughed, watching his younger self suffer in vain. “But it’s cool to see that all this time it was me that got most of the chances with Totoko-chan. Like, this was 1988 but even in the 2015 reboot we’ve had many more chances than anyone else. Am I right or am I right, Karamatsu?” No reply. “Karamatsu?” Osomatsu turned towards the ghost. 

Karamatsu’s expression was dimmed with the shadow of his bangs. “Ah, Osomatsu. This isn’t the end of it yet. Follow me.”

He began walking off, and Osomatsu found no other option but to follow. 

They exited the room of celebration as Karamatsu pushed the door open, entering through it as he gave Osomatsu the soundless order to do the same. As Osomatsu peered over the edge of the door, it was no longer the Dayyoon Hotel that they were seeing. It was Akatsuka Ward bathed in dusk, and they were standing at one of the neighboring houses to the Matsuno’s place, where a man in red was seated atop the roof, staring silently into the distance.

Osomatsu quickly recognized this scenario originating as season one, episode twenty-four of the first season.

And she came over tight when he expected her to. 

“Osomatsu-kun!” Totoko called, stopping in front of the house and staring up towards the roof. “I quit being an idol, and the studying abroad thing didn’t last since I got homesick,” she chirped on, sensing nothing out of the ordinary. “Everything feels like such a bother now!” She giggled, because she was happy. She was happy when he wasn’t, because she was in such a position where she was held high and Osomatsu’s life had been sucked down a drain.

It was an automatic reply then—Osomatsu stood up and left. And it was only in this moment that  _ he _ saw how this action of his past self had affected her—he saw the sorrow barely flash on her face from the rejection, her locked lips unable to further comment on what was turning her childhood friend’s mood into dust. 

He had, in some way, granted discomfort to one of the people he trusted with his life. 

Because selfishness, as usual. 

Fingernails against his arms, Osomatsu forced himself to look away as Totoko defeatedly left the house before he and the ghost were back as the only ones in the neighborhood. Birds whistled in a distance, covering up for their lack of words, and only in the next few minutes did Karamatsu decide to break their thoughts with syllables again.

“You both lived happily and sadly because of bonding, Osomatsu,” Karamatsu—no, the  _ Ghost of Christmas Past,  _ said solemnly. “As a child, you looked at the glories of youth, and talked those you cared about into understanding it.” 

He opened the door a little, and both were able to glimpse back at the Dayyoon Hotel, at the ten-year olds Osomatsu and Totoko resuming their dancing through laughter, with Choromatsu weeping in envy at the sight. “You had little to worry about, because you had everything you needed. You had brothers that made you happy, a successful anime that made others feel the same. But...”

Karamatsu pointed to the orange-washed Matsuno household, at the roof that left a spirited outline of the person previously sitting there in woe. “But greed had made you sorrowful. Because you were too bonded, you pushed everyone you cared about away when you no longer got what you wanted. This applies to you now, Osomatsu. Greed fills you up, and it makes you push others away. You forget what kind of happiness you had before because you give yourself the standards of a god, forgetting that even villagers had their spotlight.”

Osomatsu just swallowed, having nothing to say, but having so many things racing in his head. 

Karamatsu grabbed Osomatsu’s hands in his, faced Osomatsu and let their identical eyes parallel each other. But where Osomatsu’s were lost, Karamatsu’s were solid yet certain. Karamatsu’s touch was also far from ghostly—it was warm and real. Kind. Brotherly.

He said, “Do not let your innocence be outshined by greed, Osomatsu. Everyone you care about, no matter what timeline, will prefer to see you with them than see you alone. Do not forget what it’s like to be happy with those who love you, and those who love you back. Understand, brother?”

Painted with a little melancholy, Karamatsu smiled, and suddenly he wasn’t glowing blue anymore and he wasn’t wearing a painful white robe. He was reduced back to a ten year-old child, back in their original blue uniforms with their yellow buttons and sky-tinted pants. His eyebrows were undeveloped in thickness, looking like everyone else’s, but the shape of all of him was undeniably Karamatsu, something that told him apart since the day he entered the world.

With a small, higher-pitched hum, Karamatsu-kun was shutting his eyes as he dipped his head, as if accepting a telepathic promise from the older brother in front of him.

* * *

Sleep. it was all about the darkness behind his eyelids, the time that ran when he wasn’t seeing anything at all. But at once Osomatsu’s eyes snapped open and he bolted up from his bed, panting and sweaty. 

In the darkness, he can still feel the heat of Karamatsu’s hands over his as if it had just happened, but here he was stuck in his own bedroom again, the window shut and the cold winter air continuing to bellow unkindly outside. Osomatsu flicked his focus through his room, maybe sensing  _ something  _ that proved his encounter with Karamatsu as more than just a trick of his mind.

Nothing.

Perhaps it all was fake after all, but Karamatsu’s advice rang in his ears in an endless loop, an alarm of a reminder, a tip for Osomatsu to recall until the time came when Osomatsu’s actions changed the world for them. Dang that Karamatsu, always so stupid when it came to love of any kind and yet...His voice looped. It looped like a recurring dream, and Osomatsu was unable to let it leave his head. 

So with that, Osomatsu collapsed back to bed, let the cool air tickle his skin, and forced himself back to sleep through Karamatsu’s voice.

* * *

“Osomatsu-niisan, time to get up now!”

“...hmm?” Osomatsu groggily gathered his sleepy self from his position on his mattress, pushing down his blanket to identify the source of the command. 

He was in the next second seeing the shape of someone glowing pale pink standing in front of the vanity mirror, rearranging his bangs as he held a Panama hat in his other hand. Noticing Osomatsu’s gaping state, Todomatsu spun around slowly, grinning smugly.

“Hello, sleeping beauty,” he greeted, finishing with one last swipe through his bangs and placing his hat over his head before leaving the spot in front of the mirror. 

As he came closer, his pink shirt under a sandy blazer was revealed, as well as his shin-length, pastel-blue pants. The more Osomatsu thought about it, the more he remembered Todomatsu wearing this specific set of garments to stand-out when Totoko had called them over to her room to announce her ascension as an idol. That was so far back in 2015...!

“Get up now, lazy head,” Todomatsu called out, slamming his hand over the bed unexpectedly and making Osomatsu jump up, startled. Todomatsu laughed. “What’s wrong, niisan? Didn’t expect to see me, huh? Well, not that I wanted to  _ see you _ either. Let’s just go now so I can get back to the mixer on time. C’mon!” He grabbed Osomatsu’s wrist aggressively, yanking Osomatsu from the bed and bringing him to his feet.

“Oi!” Osomatsu snatched his hand back, gingerly rubbing it from Todomatsu’s ruthless contact. “What the hell?! What are you even supposed to be, you dry monster?! If you don’t even want to be here then why did you come at all?!”

“Tee-hee! I’m sorry~!” he amended, but it was far from apologetic. He was just making a saccharine face that made Osomatsu want to slap him more. “But it’s my job! Karamatsu-niisan’s done with his part so now it’s up to me! Ah-hah-hee-hee...!” Noticing the blank expression of the eldest, Todomatsu moaned, sourness molding him. “Ghost of Christmas Present. Me. We’re leaving. Clear now?” he impatiently explained.

_ “You’re  _ ghost of Christmas present?” Osomatsu blew a raspberry. “So what? Are you planning on taking me to the mixer with you, huh? Everyone knows that you can’t stand any of us with you there, so what’s the point of assigning me to you?”

“You’re very much a pointless human being already alone, niisan,” Todomatsu pointed out shamelessly. “I think that’s why you matter at all, so you’re not  _ that  _ pointless. Get what I mean?” he asked sweetly.

Osomatsu’s nose scrunched. “Isn’t your job supposed to be inspiring me? You’re just trying to belittle me at the moment.”

“Ah, just preparing you for the worst, Osomatsu-niisan,” Todomatsu told him, his smile sugary. “So don’t be mad at baby Totty. Besides.” He shifted his weight. “You’ve already learned a few from Karamatsu-niisan, yes? So you shouldn’t be as defensive as you are. Unless you’re still a wiener and know nothing yet, as expected.”

“You cocky little...” Osomatsu growled.

“Hah! Okie then! While your mood is still better than Choromatsu-niisan’s when you found him unclothed back in season one, we should probably go now.” Todomatsu started humming as he took foot after foot off towards the door. But Osomatsu didn’t follow him—he remained beside the bed, glowering.

“Listen, you little runt,” he said. “I don’t know why my personality has been ticking so many of you off lately, but if that’s the case I can see why you’re all trying to change me. But what’s the point of it all? Even if something does happen this Christmas, I’m still going to be the star of our series and the reason all of us are still standing. Are you scared of what might happen next? Are you scared of suddenly having an episode not up to the fans’ favor, and the entire Studio Pierrot going bankrupt? Is that what you’re scared of?”

Todomatsu was unresponsive.

“Or are you scared of always being the stupid, idiotic youngest brother, naive and the butt of all the jokes, the attention, the treatment? Are you scared of our success driving you this state? Are you really that selfish, Todomatsu?”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Wind from outside, then nothing. Osomatsu’s own breathing, his heart beating, then nothing. 

“You...”

A vein throbbed on Todomatsu’s temple, and he was a beast that pounced. Osomatsu didn’t even have the time to scream out when Todomatsu was grabbing him by his collar and dragging him after like a slave. Osomatsu’s rage was vulgar as he yelled at Todomatsu, but the pink ghost didn’t let any of them affect him as he dragged Osomatsu out the door and down the stairs of the building. 

“Oi! Todoma—!”

Todomatsu slapped him across the face, then continued on, Osomatsu deflating in surrender.

They stood like this for a moment, and Osomatsu thought that maybe he had finally crept into Todomatsu’s mind and manipulated the emotions of the younger man. Neither moved, nor acknowledged themselves, only heard the snowfall outside and the hints of partying coming from secluded rooms in buildings and rooms alike. 

Then: “Listen, Osomatsu-niisan,” Todomatsu said lowly, loosening his grip on his brother but still tugging him through the dim, sleeping apartment. “I don’t care how many insults you throw at me, because we’ve all heard them before. They’re nothing new. You always belittle all of us when you have the chance to, but we don’t react, do we? We let it slide? We let you bully us to your heart’s content?” He licked his lips. “Which is a reason I think, to why where we’re going now would be important for you to see.” 

He sighed, releasing Osomatsu’s hand and stopping. When he faced Osomatsu, he was fairly stern. “Please, I know that  _ I myself  _ can be as greedy and narcissistic sometimes, but understand that I’m doing this so you don’t go down an even darker path. Okay?”

Osomatsu blinked at his brother, hearing his own breath echo. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Good.” Todomatsu led them to the entrance of the apartment, only lit by a light originating from the opposite room. “Let’s go outside then.” He pushed the door open and stepped over the borderline.

The contrast to the colorful scenery of Akatsukadai from a bird’s view, Akatsuka Ward here was less special. There were fewer citizens out to play in the snow, and the colors had less radiance than before. As Todomatsu stepped onto the snow-covered AM streets, his pink outline seemed to diminish and his form became spirited. Osomatsu hesitated siding with his brother, knowing that somehow, this  _ wasn’t  _ him and was merely a scary picture trying to guilt his mind.

“Niisan?” Todomatsu called him over. “Let’s go! It’s just across the street. And you won’t get cold—I promise.”

Ah, perhaps just take his word—Osomatsu was too lazy to return inside the apartment to grab a jacket. Osomatsu slid his feet into his red shoes before stepping out of the house, following the ghost of a younger brother down the street. They both jogged towards the opposite window, fogged with precipitation, but already the laughter of Christmas commemoration rang through the walls. Todomatsu wiped the glass with his sleeve, clearing it out for both of them before they managed to properly view what was inside.

Their friends. Their friends, from before, from now. And all of them were partying...without them? Without him? Osomatsu watched as Dekapan and Dayon smacked their glasses of alcohol against one another beside the snacks table, with Chibita and Hatabou opening presents by the Christmas tree. As Hatabou cheered with the sight of a Japanese-themed toy car, Chibita pumped a fist in the air as a pillow shaped like an oden stick was placed onto his lap.

Nyaa Hashimoto and Totoko were at one end of the room, comparing fans’ gifts with smiles tainted plastic. Readying some more snacks were the two girls that Todomatsu had met in Sutabaa Aida and Sachiko, with Kinko Inuyama rearranging some of the Christmas balls on the tree. At the front of the room, one of the AI’s—Shake—was responsible for filling the room with music, while Ume kept their fireplace steady and warm.

“They’re...partying?” Osomatsu asked.

“Yep,” Todomatsu replied, continuing to watch their friends. 

“And didn’t invite us?” Osomatsu asked, peeved.

“Mhm. But don’t feel that way too soon. There’s something that will happen. Just watch.”

Taking his word, Osomatsu did. And what happened next was instantaneous.

“This is fun, not like when we film that damn show,” Chibita said, hugging the oden plush to his chest. “Ke! Like, look at how much fun we’re having when none of those damn idjits are here to crap on our fun? It’s great, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Nyaa agreed, tone royal. “It’s lame being a side character on a popular show like that when I can have my own career as a real idol. What’s the point? And it’s not like the Matsuno brothers matter so much anyway.”

“They just rain on our parade, dasu,” Dekapan stated, ridding the corners of his lips from stains of wine. “Our skits are even funnier than theirs, dasu! If the fans knew what the brothers can be like in real life then there’s no way they will be popular at all, right?”

“Ke! Hell yeah, Dekapan-man, ya know what I mean dammit!” Chibita laughed, pointing at the chubby bald man.

“They’re just so mean, da-jo!” Hatabou added, frantically waving his arms.

“And they’re uninspiring,” Sachiko said snobbishly. “Who wants to influence our new generations of viewers by watching a show about NEETs?”

“They’re also not as fun after a while,” Kinko admitted.

“Ke! This is why we need to have a new cart race, idjits!” Chibita announced, slapping the side of his fist to his palm. “So we can win over those damn sextuplets and make a better show for everyone! We’d make an even better cast than envy of them! Look at our variety here!”

“Yeah! Plus there’s an even mix between people from the Showa and the Reiwa era!” Aida contributed.

The group guffawed, and Osomatsu’s teeth ground against one another as his insides ignited madly in hellfire. How dare they. How. Dare. They. To trash-talk the Matsuno brothers when it was  _ their  _ popularity that gave these idiots a show in the first place...! How ungrateful can they be?! Sure, there were days when the Matsunos were absolute trash and needed lessons, but that didn’t deserve their villainous deeds to talk as if they owned the world and—!

“To be fair, it all started because of Osomatsu,” Totoko suddenly piped up.

Everyone shut up. Osomatsu stared. Todomatsu merely watched it all.

“Think about it,” Totoko continued casually. “Even if Iyami was leading before, the show was still popular. But then all of a sudden there’s this lame show about the NEETs where Iyami even  _ tried to kill himself  _ because of how unpopular he became, and yet we have those losers being attention to the eye? How the hell can that even be possible? I should be the main, but I’m not. Chibita-kun can be successful, but he isn’t. Hatabou can be rich, but he isn’t as well. Because Osomatsu-kun is a selfish and lame idiot who knows nothing about making a good anime.”

“Hell yeah, Yowai Totoko!” Nyaa exclaimed, raising a glass of wine proudly. “But I’d surely be more popular than you either way!”

“And he’s just rude often too, yon!” Dayon shouted. 

“A bullhooey lead, jo!” Hatabou fumed.

“Stupid eldest, hoeh!” Dekapan cheered. 

“Shitty eldest! Shitty eldest! Shitty eldest!” Shake and Ume chorused together in agreement.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” The voice came from the doorway, and Choromatsu was entering the place, body clothed with a cozy green jacket as he wolfishly grinned at the room. “He’s been nothing but awful, being mean and demanding of everyone like the entire world circled around him. I hate being a crap brother myself, but what choice do I have? Osomatsu’s got so many requirements that you can’t help but take it all out on him. I can’t believe we used to be friends as kids.” He grabbed a carton of milk, smacked the straw through its hole, and sipped.

No one said a word, but that was only for three seconds. Then the whole room was exploding in praise as they complimented Choromatsu’s words, getting up from their places to toss him in the air in appreciation. The whole room was a haven of dirty glee, of unchanged ideas, complimented mindsets and agreements left and right. The show was bad because of Osomatsu. The entire room of their friends, and of his  _ childhood best friends,  _ had made this known.

Osomatsu turned around, not wanting to see anymore. 

Todomatsu turned around with him until both were facing the apartment’s shrunken appearance. It was a gray, gloomy building—it looked anything but as wealthy as the one who lived inside it. Or, it looked as poor as its owner felt this moment. “Sorry about that,” Todomatsu said monotonously.

The triumphant yodeling of their friends didn’t drown out, only fuel the anguish dusting Osomatsu’s stomach. “That’s really what they think?” he exhaled, locked on the snow landing in soft plops on the ground. “That’s what Totoko-chan thinks? Ch... _ Choromatsu?”  _

Just imagining how he had seen himself and Choromatsu in the past, the scarring words of Choromatsu pummeled Osomatsu so much that the pain was a barbaric sort of torture. It was devilish, crueler than heartbreak, because this was his entire life that seemed turned to ashes. Osomatsu clenched his teeth, looking away from the ghost before he saw anything uncharacteristic in Osomatsu’s nature.

“Mhm...” Todomatsu pocketed his hands, resting one of his shoes back against the wall. “There’s...There’s still one more thing I need to show you, niisan.”

Really? This wasn’t bad enough yet? What could possibly be worse than having people you’ve been with all your life talk behind your back, cut daggers against you, talk to each other with the same, sickening thought that it was better that you weren’t there at all?

“Where,” Osomatsu panted.

“Just the next window over,” Todomatsu said, inviting Osomatsu to follow him as he pushed himself off the wall and directed them to a similar glass window at the right of the current one. 

Unlike the first one though, there were no joyful sounds emitting from inside, no music, no holiday spirit that compared to the neighboring area. As Osomatsu stood next to him, Todomatsu cleansed the fog off the glass again for the both of them, then allowed osomatsu space for them to peak inside. Osomatsu’s heart dropped.

It was Jyushimatsu, carrying a single cake in hand as he approached a table, where a girl with brown hair weaved into a braid—Homura, was seated. He knelt down at the other side as he placed the plate on the table, his smile pained as he pushed it towards Homura and whoever was sitting next to her...

...Eitarou?

Oh...oh...oh no...

It  _ was  _ Eitarou, Osomatsu saw as the younger boy weakly tried to get closer to the meal, but the visible agony in his leg and the crutch at his side limited his actions. Homura quickly swiped the cake over and positioned it in front of the small boy and herself before urging Jyushimatsu over with a wiggle of her finger. He slid closer to them until he was next to her, and Osomatsu was able to see how tired he looked, how red his eyes were. 

“It’s not western confectionary this time,” Jyushimatsu promised, tugging at the hem of his shirt—the shirt he wore at the recent werewolf skit, Osomatsu recognized instantly. His stomach sloshed. “It’s one of the sweets from Sutabaa! Aida-chan and Sachiko-chan were kind enough to give me some of it to take home to you two for Christmas. I picked out something I thought you’d like, Eitarou-kun.”

“That’s so cool, Jyushimatsu! Yeah, yeah!” Eitarou cheered, glimmering as he watched Homura slice the cake with a plastic knife. “Ah, that looks so good! I wish Mom was here to be able to celebrate with us this s—!” He broke into a coughing fit, covering his mouth as the couple flinched in panic. Homura’s hands were wrapped around the boy in an instant, Jyushimatsu’s energy sparking as he raced towards the glass of water closest to them. 

He handed it towards the boy as Eitarou calmed down, cheeks rosy as he tiredly began swallowing the water in huge and heavy gulps. Jyushimatsu’s forehead gleamed with sweat, Homura the same as her bangs pasted over her forehead. But neither faltered at the boy’s side as he allowed the water to hydrate him, clear him even a little bit from the dangers of illness lurking in his system.

“What...” Osomatsu began, lips unable to form anything. “What happened to Eitarou...? Wh...Where’s his mother?”

“Honestly...I...I don’t know,” Todomatsu admitted, his own tone sympathetic. “I can’t say how long until she can return to us, but for the time being Eitarou’s care is under Jyushimatsu-niisan and Homura-chan, which is fine since we all know how much his family likes niisan. But then again, Eitarou suddenly got into an accident or something, labeling him disabled, but Jyushimatsu-niisan and Homura-chan have been having such a hard time taking care of him. Every single penny counts, I remember niisan saying once. He hasn’t been earning a lot lately though.”

_ “You gave me two-hundred yen because my scripts are always limited? How is that fair at all?” Jyushimatsu demanded, swiping the money angrily. “I am both in-show and out your younger brother, Osomatsu-niisan. We aren’t going to live until the end as just employees. And the reason I don’t talk back at you all the time is because I care about you, and because I know your leadership will lead to the success of Akatsuka’s works. It has nothing to do with lost confidence. It’s all about not letting you down.” _

God. 

Damn it. 

Osomatsu was a fool. A stupid, ignorant, idiotic, crappy fool.

He deserved the worst the world had to offer. He deserved none of the people he once called friends, he deserved no attention for this horrible anime, he deserved nothing more than an empty plate and a life void of money. He deserved...!

He deserved to die.

“I...I had no idea,” he admitted, getting himself off the glass again and turning to the snowy scene behind them. The street lights flickered, another awful reminder of his cruel behavior, and Osomatsu hugged his arms as he lowered his head in shame. How insensitive he had been earlier tonight—if only he had known. No, if only  _ he had been  _ a better person entirely, then maybe luck on Christmas would have existed for the hard-working couple. For his hard-working brother.

“Niisan...” Todomatsu began, closing the gap between their sides as he let their shoulders touch. “Please, the last thing I need to see is you sulking again over what you weren’t able to control. But we can’t change what’s already happening, only change what we decide to do next. I mean, sure. I’ve made a lot of lousy decisions myself, but so what? I make up for them the best way I can. Take one person to the mixer, and I take none of you because I don’t want to offend any of you. I made up for the Sutabaa incident with a single choice.”

Only the snow and the air was his reply.

Sighing, Todomatsu clamped Osomatsu’s shoulder. “Osomatsu-niisan, look. I think what I’m trying to say is, it’s never too late to change. I’m sure you’ve seen what life can be like by being a better person, and you’ve seen what pride and greed can do. So please, if you can, don’t let the negatives of temporary happiness beseech you to be a bad person. There are so many better things you can have by just being nicer and less dramatic over your present. I’ve learned from experience.”

Despite himself, Osomatsu huffed a partial snort. “Is this why you’re the Ghost of Christmas Present, Totty?” he joked weakly.

“Hah! Perhaps.” Todomatsu reached behind him, and handed something soft towards Osomatsu. “Here, take this. Let it remind you of where you are and where you can be.” He handed the item to Osomatsu, who took it with trembling hands. 

Upon inspection, it was Osomatsu’s iconic red hoodie with its green pine symbol in the middle, just as it had always been during and after shoots for an episode. Osomatsu quickly glanced up towards Todomatsu, seeing the ghost suddenly dressed in his own pink hoodie, his infamous brown beanie atop his head. He held his one and only smartphone in one hand as the flash went off, making Osomatsu flinch and rear back in the uncalled-for millisecond of white. 

Then Todomatsu lowered his phone with a snicker, saying, “You look weird when you aren’t grumpy, niisan. In a good way of course, I think.” He winked.

* * *

When Osomatsu’s eyes opened, he wasn’t lying directly on his pillow—it was something red. He stretched his elbows to see what it was, and found his red hoodie under him with ridiculous folds, as if a result of Todomatsu’s hands arranging it prior to his trip...Todomatsu...

Quickly, Osomatsu got out of his bed and dashed to his window, looking down at the streets and at the two buildings across from his apartment. But neither had the architectures of the houses in his trip to the present, both absent of the two elongated windows too fogged over to reveal the jubilee of his co-workers and the poverty of their brother in sunshine. Had it all been real then? Or was all of this just his mind messing with him?

Either way, the recall of all the salty words and the bitter family brought a stab through him, and Osomatsu stumbled back to his bed. He let the mattress swallow him as he dropped his back onto it, his hair against his hoodie, the ceiling above him deforming into the events of his real nightmare.

Osomatsu shut his eyes, unable to look at them, but they still played again and again. Osomatsu fell asleep again like this, just lying down in his bed, imagining the pain and anger his choices had made for everyone he...he...

Cared about.

Osomatsu hugged the hoodie.

* * *

First, Osomatsu felt his mattress sink a little as if a weight had placed itself at the edge of his bed. It turns out that this might’ve been the case, for when Osomatsu peeled his eyes open he saw someone dressed as some sort of Black Santa by his feet. He regarded Osomatsu with a bored, unenthusiastic look, barely moving at all as if he were truly a ghost that came to haunt. He glowed very slight purple, his clothes so dark that his translucency was barely visible.

Osomatsu yawned, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Ahh..uh, ah...” He squinted, trying to still his doubling sight. “Ah...Ichimatsu?”

The ghost bobbed his head. “Mhm.”

“Ah...I want to guess you’re the Ghost of Christmas Future, huh?” Osomatsu predicted, uncurling his spine as he scratched his back. His muscles were definitely beginning to ache over how often he was waking up tonight. 

“Yeah, I am,” Ichimatsu said, getting up from the bed. He tugged at the gray fur ending his sleeves, still emotionless as he kept his focus on his older brother. “Should we just go now? It’s useless to have any argument with you before we manage to get out to where we need to go. I know you bantered with Karamatsu and Todomatsu before you managed to head out with them, right?”

“Uh...yeah.” Osomatsu rubbed his temple—who was  _ telling  _ the others of this news? Was someone spying on their encounters or did they have an office chamber or something where they talked about Osomatsu’s state? Blergh, talk about invasion of privacy. “Where’s your plan to go to, Ichimatsu?” he asked instead.

Ichimatsu opened the door. “Hmm, quite separate in location actually. I don’t have any pyrotechnic and transitional powers like Karamatsu and Totty do, so just bear with me when I choose to walk there.” He stepped out. “Go get your coat or something. I’ll be at the front door.” He didn’t wait for a reply as he left the room and went straight for the stairs.

Eh? What did pyrotechnics have to do with anything?

Thinking better than opposing Ichimatsu, Osomatsu scurried out of his bed and grabbed the red hoodie still lying in wrinkles over his sheets. He immediately shrugged the fabric over his blue pajamas as he shut his door and raced down the stairs, skipping steps before he reached the bottom. Ichimatsu was already standing outside when Osomatsu had arrived in the entrance, sliding his bare feet into his shoes again.

...Again? Ah, because he had gone out with Todomatsu through here. But if his shoes were here, did it really happen?

Well, no time to ask for now. Ichimatsu was waiting.

Closing the door, Ichimatsu went ahead and stepped onto the street, the absence of snowfall now their weather as the younger man slightly kicked the ice blocking the road. When Osomatsu was done locking the door, he joined Ichimatsu at the road, struck by moonlight and the blinking street lights overhead. As they began to walk, there was no conversation for them, only Osomatsu with his awkward inability to begin a conversation, and Ichimatsu walking with the same mysterious feel as ever.

Now it truly was a silent night, with Christmas commemorations paused and the eerie groaning of their suspicious evening brimming the city. The snow under them sank as their steps smashed against the white, Ichimatsu low on commentary as Osomatsu internally questioned Ichimatsu’s corporeality. He was a see-through man, but at the same time solid enough to touch the snow. But asking about Ichimatsu was always a welcome call for suicide, so he was better off saying silence.

Instead, Osomatsu tried to recollect each detail of his journey that there was to remember. Beginning with Iyami, he didn’t think there would be more to anything than a silly dream of the show’s previous icon. But then Karamatsu and Todomatsu had shown up, taking Osomatsu to a trip of when youth was still untouched by tragedy and when the present was penalized with putrid personalities. But no matter the direction that Osomatsu walked, somehow his two brothers had both ended their segments with the same hope for his change, for his improvement as their brother and friend.

Karamatsu’s warm, child-like hands enclosing his, Todomatsu’s friendly wink, the hoodie he now donned. Although Osomatsu was a bitter stranger to himself, somehow Karamatsu and Todomatsu had managed to find someone familiar through all the layers of greed stacked over Osomatsu’s person, and pulled him out for even a short amount of time. They had reduced him to a child, reduced him to a brother, and made him feel small when the world was so obviously big.

Small, because he had bound himself somewhere else all this time that entering reality had him greeting galaxies.

Osomatsu didn’t mind being his own ruler, having his own paradise to call his own, but what was the point of throwing grand parties when there was nobody to celebrate with, when there was no one willing to invite themselves? It made the king feel lonely, feel like he was doing too little even when he always thought he had done so much. Perhaps he had done much to fulfill his own joy, but done nothing to fulfill that of others.

And that was why he ruled a kingdom of silence.

_ “Do not let your innocence be outshined by greed, Osomatsu. Everyone you care about, no matter what timeline, will prefer to see you with them than see you alone. Do not forget what it’s like to be happy with those who love you, and those who love you back. Understand, brother?” _

But...But they hated him...! What the hell was Karamatsu talking about?! They don’t give two damns about him so what’s the point of reassuring him of love that didn’t even exist? If he showed up at their homes now, they weren’t going to welcome him at all...! They’re all just plastic goons that would rather frolic with knives thrown at picture frames than accept a moron that treated them like trash...!

There was no love. None at all. And accepting this, Osomatsu continued to consider himself king of a deserted island.

_ “Osomatsu-niisan, look. I think what I’m trying to say is, it’s never too late to change. I’m sure you’ve seen what life can be like by being a better person, and you’ve seen what pride and greed can do. So please, if you can, don’t let the negatives of temporary happiness beseech you to be a bad person. There are so many better things you can have by just being nicer and less dramatic over your present.” _

Change. Change. Do not dwell on the miseries and sucky blemishes of what he had, and make a future worth diamonds for everyone. This is the task that Todomatsu recommended he do, basing the choice on his own travesties in life and wishing Osomatsu to travel under a star of hope. Maybe he was right. Heck, maybe he was wrong. But the weight of positive probabilities hefted the option more than anything else.

Was it truly not too late yet? Even when they all hated him—his childhood crush, his best brother, all the friends they had making their series as successful as it was? Was there still a way to change their hearts from what was already marking it?

_ Yes,  _ a voice inside him said.  _ You can change their hearts by changing yours first. _

“You don’t mind this?” Ichimatsu suddenly asked, taking Osomatsu’s head back from the clouds. “You don’t mind walking instead of having some magic transportation method to take you to our destination, Osomatsu-niisan?”

“Huh? No, not at all, it’s all good,” he said, catching up to Ichimatsu as they exited an area of buildings and entered the region containing the park, the subdivisions, the bridge separating patches of grassy land now toppled with ice. Neither of them slowed down as they walked, Osomatsu relying on Ichimatsu’s lead as the purple ghost continued monotonously.

“Good,” Ichimatsu grumbled simply. A beat passed before he spoke again. “I won’t be able to say it later, so I’ll say it now. Listen to me, okay, niisan? You’re the one who benefits out of this, so please don’t try to argue against me.”

Osomatsu blew out slightly, nodding his head once.

Ichimatsu was satisfied enough by the reply. “Alright. Osomatsu-niisan...This future I will show you, it’s what fate  _ can be  _ like, but it’s not what fate  _ is.  _ I don’t intend on scaring you entirely with what awaits, but it might be unsettling. You’re the only one who can decide what kind of outcome you’d want with your future, no matter what kind of life you live. It’s your choices that make up how you will grow old, and your choices that can change what you might see now. Because no matter how many psychics predict where you will go, no matter how many fortune-tellers you visit, nobody can be the master of your own fate other than yourself.” 

Biting his lips, Osomatsu didn’t interrupt.

“Life is a mess, and you know how much I hate it,” Ichimatsu said, jamming his hands in his pockets. “But not even I can tell a life truly screwed until I get there. As a child, we might complain over our failed grades, our rejections in theatre auditions, the girls that turn us down. But when the time comes, you wish you can just turn back time to be when everything was just as simple as all those things. So while you’re not yet in that tragic, desperate position, change fate immediately. Change fate  _ immediately.”  _

Caught with the words, Osomatsu was admittedly slightly stunned at Ichimatsu’s hopeful tonality, and all he could do was nod again. But he did feel the need to redeem himself, regardless, for Osomatsu wasn’t going to hesitate on that nod if it meant that he would delete his errors and accomplish a better beginning for everyone.

He didn’t notice Ichimatsu’s quick smirk of acknowledgement before it was gone again.

They turned a corner, and Osomatsu was greeted by iron gates rusted with age, decayed grass beneath piles of winter. Crosses stuck out from the ground in crooked tilts, each one embedded with names of parted loved ones destined with death. Leafless trees stretched out into the night, the moon a full sphere of cream that hit the cemetery with pale hues. The place looked anything but merry, more murderous than anything. 

Osomatsu felt himself pale already. “A cemetery?” he squeaked.

“Mhm.” 

Ichimatsu pushed the gate open, its clanging loud and startling in the hour of rest. As the two of them entered the graveyard, crickets chirped in dissonance, and Osomatsu felt the chills run and bump against his legs as he followed Ichimatsu onwards. He tugged down his scarlet sleeves over his hands, clasped them over opposite shoulders as he shivered. Maybe it was the cold, maybe it was the sick feeling in his stomach. Maybe it was the two of those factors combined into one, spine-chilling one.

Movement finite, Ichimatsu’s head began to swerve towards different directions, trying to identify what Osomatsu could only assume was a specific tombstone. His eyes lowered then rose, continuing from the ground to directly around them, to the crosses that stood by the horizon. As if Ichimatsu could see that far, but perhaps he really could. How many limits were there to ghosts anyway?

Osomatsu retained at his trail.

“Ah, there he is,” Ichimatsu finally said after a while, and accelerated towards a specific direction. Osomatsu didn’t stall as he did so too, trying to squint through the darkness in search for what Ichimatsu directed his attention to. 

Soon he identified two outlines, one taller than the other, standing by the edge of a grave as the shorter person clung to the taller. From this angle, he guessed that the pair was a man and a woman, and as they got closer that might as well have been the case.

As they got closer, more details on the pair began to elaborate themselves. The woman had messy brown hair tied in a rough braid, her body scarily slim as if one touch could reduce her skeleton into dust. The man was similar, though more muscly in build, with shaggier hair in need of a trim. One cowlick spawned from the top of his head, and in the dim Osomatsu managed to see a worn-out yellow hoodie tied to the man’s waist. Where the woman held the man’s side, a matching yellow wristband printed with the number 14 wrapped around her bony wrist.

Ichimatsu stopped when they were close enough. Osomatsu stopped because he himself didn’t think he would feel any less uncomfortable if he were too close. For watching Jyushimatsu and Homura so skeletal and broken was enough on its own to knock his lungs out and make his heart shatter. His blood ran cold. His posture drooped.

Jyushimatsu and Homura were both openly weeping, standing in front of the snowy soil as they latched against each other as if not doing so would burst a bigger rift with what they had already lost. They tried not to crumble too much, but they were on the verge of emotional death. Looking down at the grave that they both towered over, the cross had a message sprawled on it that Osomatsu could see:

_ ‘Here lies Eitarou, RIP. May the Final Fart Rush taught by your master make other children laugh in the heavens.’ _

Osomatsu’s own voice broke. “Oh  _ god...” _

Ichimatsu softened, stiffening ever so slightly as he watched their brother break apart from Homura slowly, limping towards Eitarou’s grave. His shoulders hitched as he collapsed to his knees, fingers helping him move as they dragged against the soil. Soon enough his forehead was connected to the vertical stone, hands rising to clasp its sedimentary concrete as a wail of pain ripped out from his throat, ringing across the graveyard. It was an impossible sound, something never heard once before, and so unrealistically damaged that comprehending it as reality was nonviable.

But it was a true sound, and it wrenching out from Jyushimatsu Matsuno was the last combination one can ever concoct.

Homura clamped her mouth at her lover’s scream, and she too allowed her legs to give in as she collided to the ground in tears. It was such a pitiful sight, watching two people who cared about love and laughter losing all of it in one moment. Their grief washed upon the entire cemetery, and the hollows sharpening it with midnight horror returned it to its more-known state of loss and sadness.

Osomatsu’s internal demons all started pointing at one another. Some of them were screaming. Some of them were crying. Others were raging. But for the entity owning them, he might as well just be as dead as everyone else in this godforsaken place.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Ichimatsu whispered, as if he could hear the fighting inside Osomatsu’s system. “To see someone in so much pain, but then feel like you could’ve done everything you can to prevent it? You don’t need to love someone in order to feel that way, niisan. You just need to care.”

Osomatsu’s breath caught.

“Living a life individually can make it difficult to care at all, right?” Ichimatsu resumed, as lackadaisical as he can manage. “But once you understand the struggles you and everyone else faces, maybe you can find a way to care. People fear to make choices because they fear the results, but doing something is better than hiding in the back. This is where Jyushimatsu went wrong when it came to you.”

“...eh?” Osomatsu tried to look at the ghost. “...what do you...?”

Ichimatsu folded his arms. “He said he didn’t want to approach you because he was afraid of offending you, right? But sometimes it’s confidence that can save a life. No—it’s  _ always  _ confidence that can save a life. By conquering insecurities, anyone would be able to fend themselves from injustice and potentially receive better treatment. Jyushimatsu, that’s why this happened—because he cared too much about you to offend you, to have you look down on him, and yourself too. He’s that kind.”

He was. He really was. Both as a character from a series, or a member of the real world, Jyushimatsu gave his title as sunshine meaning, and it was no wonder that sunshine can be covered by clouds so easily.

Ichimatsu chuckled, but it contained no humor. “Heh, Jyushimatsu—me and him really match in friendship for this. We’re both cowardly idiots.” His smile was scathing to himself.

Instead of commenting on Ichimatsu’s self-attack, Osomatsu just comprehends Ichimatsu’s words. But the thing was, there was no reason to comprehend them, to join him in the blame game when the culprit to their drama was set out in the open. He didn’t need to delve deep into some philosophical explanation, unite vowels to experiences to tie the ends that already made sense. He didn’t need any of that. All he needed was to believe what his pain warned him, ordered him to feel.

“It’s not his fault, Ichimatsu,” Osomatsu said, annoyingly uneven. “It’s mine. I don’t care if he didn’t have the confidence to demand off from me, since it was supposed to be me from the beginning to treat him more like an equal, like a brother. He was still kinder when I was greedy, and still treated me like family when that was what I never did. He isn’t to blame for this stupid instance. It’s me.”

Ichimatsu listened. Only listened.

“I know I’ve been acting like a total ass this Christmas—no, all throughout life—to everybody,” Osomatsu corrected, pinching his fists. “And everything I’ve seen tonight, past, present, future, is because I’m a horrible person. Yes, I am the oldest son of the Matsuno brothers, the titular character of a franchise going on for decades even, but so what? That doesn’t...That doesn’t excuse me from how I’ve been behaving.” He gestured at Jyushimatsu. “An innocent boy is dead. My childhood crush and best brother hate me. You three with  _ Iyami  _ have to visit me just to remind me of how awful I am as a person, yet there’s still blame that falls on someone else?”

Ichimatsu’s brows deepened. “Osomatsu...”

“Don’t try,” Osomatsu snapped, gnashing his teeth. “It’s a worthless effort. This future reeks of failure and I’m not tolerating it. Farewell, Ichimatsu. I’m waking up so I can improve it anyway I can. I won’t want to be seeing Jyushimatsu and Homura like this when this timeline reaches our feet.” He started to walk away.

Ichimatsu clicked his tongue, on his heels. “Wait, stop,” he commanded, making for a grab—

“Don’t stop me, unless you’re waking me up,” Osomatsu hissed, letting deep footprints sink into the white beneath his feet. Although it was supposedly cold to the touch, all he felt was the warmth of his own anger towards himself. “Get away from me, Ichimatsu. Give me the chance to change.”

_ “Osomat...!”  _ Ichimatsu’s voice faded, and he stopped. Instead, a grin suddenly formed on his pale face, and his hands were again tucked into his pockets. “You never actually learned  _ where  _ you were when the timeline reached  _ these feet,”  _ he schmoozed eerily.

Osomatsu halted, just a bit, until his steps had transitioned to become slow enough for a stop. He narrowed his eyes as he shifted them back towards Ichimatsu, curiosity tickling him a little at the unanswered question Ichimatsu had just dropped. Although he was fueled with a lot more than he needed to be opted to let the idea drop, the inkling of curiosity didn’t dwindle. He was greedily tempted to know, just for even a bit.

“...where am I...?” he cautiously asked.

It was Ichimatsu’s character to be devilish, and that grin that split his cheeks was certainly so. He gave a single chuckle, and it was a sinister, malicious thing that promised disaster on Osomatsu’s end. “Here. Follow me one more time, Osomatsu-niisan.” He hiccuped one more laugh, then bolted immediately after.

Osomatsu jumped.  _ “Oi!”  _ he yelled, then chased after him. 

Ichimatsu ran with velocity of lightning, threading through the cemetery and traveling over it like it was endless. The tombstones stretched out without stopping, billions of crosses coming and going, trees passing by them in whisks of blue-struck green. Osomatsu panted as he tried to catch up with the ghost, lungs blasting breath and losing it as his legs fought for speed. 

“Ichimatsu!” he called out.

Ichimatsu said nothing.

_ “Ichimatsu!” _

Nothing.

_ “Ichimatsu! Ichimacchan!”  _

No reply.

“Ich—!”

But then they appeared.

Displaying in colors at his sides, images of all of his friends and family flashed like blinks painted like the Northern lights. First Osomatsu saw Karamatsu, bowing on what looked like a stage as roses were thrown to his feet. He was soon gone and he saw Todomatsu, carrying a menu to Sutabaa and placing it down on a table, revealing a label attached to his left breast saying ‘manager.’ Then it was Ichimatsu, greeting a couple of people and leading them through a shelter lined with cages of desperate kittens. Then there was Jyushimatsu, crying on the gravestone, just as Osomatsu had seen him last. And then there was Choromatsu, sporting glasses as he listed through what seemed like an idol’s schedule.

Then it was others: His parents, happily sitting on a pair of rocking chairs as they browsed through pictures of their grandchildren. Totoko, swaying a bundle of young flesh in her arms. Chibita, having lines of people enter his own brand-new oden-themed restaurant. Hatabou, with yet another company with billions of yen at his side, communicating with presidents. Dayon, accompanying Scientists study black holes. Dekapan, in his laboratory with Shake and Ume aiding him. Nyaa, venturing through the globe as Japan’s biggest star of fame.

And yet Osomatsu was nowhere to be seen.

He shook his head, clearing the images off as they vanished into multicolored smoke next to him.  _ “Ichimatsu! ICHIMATSU!” _

Then the grave arrived.

It was the tallest gravestone in the cemetery, having the height of a tree. It had the same, dangerous feel of a haunted mansion, but its ominousness itself reminded him of a castle in hell, and Osomatsu felt himself shrink in terror as the giant thing loomed closer. He brought his focus back to his front, trying to identify Ichimatsu amidst the colorful smoke curling around him and the misty aura sprouting from the grave. But the darkness began to swallow Ichimatsu until he was out of sight, Osomatsu chasing shadows as he pleaded for answers.

_ “Ichimatsu!”  _ Osomatsu called out again, but the fence behind the grave came to view and he let his heels drag on the ground. He spread his arms in front of him as he came to a stop, palms digging to the cold surface of the giant grave. Perspiration slipped down his face as he let his heart slam against his ribs, his limbs tremble in fatigue. 

Osomatsu scanned the dark scenery around him: no Ichimatsu, the colored smoke decreased.

He balanced himself upright, straightening his skeleton as he looked up the direction of the encryptions on the tombstone. But mist continued to block this from him, and even slitting his glare there was very minimum to see. He tried stepping back, offering himself a more general sight of the grave, when something hollow made its way to his feet and he was falling backwards with a yelp into what seemed like a hole.

His body thumped against soil as the trees and gravestones stretched upwards to his eyes—it  _ was  _ a hole. One deep enough that he can see the sides of land as he stared up at a rectangular opening to the heavens, washed blue as dusty mist swirled with the promise of a deadly vow. But how could there possibly be a hole in there when he had just ran passed here and—

The purple-lit Black Santa ghost peered over the edge of the whole, hands wrapped viciously around a shovel. "Does feel scary looking up from the bottom, huh, Osomatsu?” he cooed.

Osomatsu sat up. “Ichimatsu! What the hell are you—?!”

“Notice how there’s no one at this grave,” Ichimatsu continued on. “What are your assumptions, niisan?  _ hUhH?!”  _ His purple outline started to go orange, morphing into a fiery hue that shaded his clothes and overplayed his skin. Ichimatsu’s eyes dilated as he cackled, the flames rising as they took more shape around him like he were to explode anytime.

Stunned and scared, Osomatsu hung back.

“Don’t you get it, Osomatsu-niisan?” Ichimatsu chortled, dropping the shovel into the pit as he spread his arms out. “This isn’t just anybody’s grave, it’s  _ yours,  _ and no one came here for respect for you is a nonexistent thing because of all the spite they throw at you. Your future is death, you perverted idiot eldest. And there’s nothing you can do about it!”

His flames grew brighter, Ichimatsu growing dimmer as tangerine took over his entire anatomy.  _ “This will be my last advice to you, Osomatsu-san!”  _ Ichimatsu shouted.  _ “Clean up your act or you  _ will  _ die! Die without anyone caring, die without your loved ones weeping! Die without a kind eulogy sharing their kind words, die without eternal peace coming with your soul! You’ll die alone and greedy, doubtful of your life, judged for eternal suffering! This is your future!" _

He grew bright enough that Osomatsu could finally see what was carved into the giant’s grave’s tombstone:

_ ‘Here lies Matsuno Osomatsu, RIP. With the biggest tombstone following him as Akatsuka’s biggest character, may his life in hell be grand.’ _

Choking, Osomatsu fumbled over his voice.  _ “DUDE, WHAT THE ACTUAL F—?!” _

_ “DIE!”  _ Ichimatsu bellowed, pulling his fists so his sides as everything else was set on fire, the ground to the trees that all began to topple against their surroundings, everything beginning to pile into the grave as the pyre inflamed them all—

_ “Gah! Ah! Dammit—!”  _ Osomatsu scurried inside the hole like a rodent caught in a trap, the world on fire around him as Ichimatsu’s cackling filled his ears. Osomatsu tossed himself against the end of the wall, shivering in spite of the heat, eyes stinging as he felt the scorched materials begin to touch him and incinerate him. Everything began to blind him—his world was filling up as it was falling apart.

“Ichimatsu!  _ Ichimacchan!”  _ He brought his forehead as close to the ground as he could—the fire was burning him but he didn’t give a blink of notice to it.  _ “I said I‘ll change! I promise I will! Ichimacchan! Ichimacchan, I’ll change! Please don’t kill me! Don’t do this! Stop laughing! Please—!”  _

_ “Heh, Jyushimatsu—me and him really match in friendship for this. We’re both cowardly idiots.”  _

Osomatsu’s tone dropped, “—don’t call yourself a cowardly idiot when you’re one of the bravest people I know,” he said.

The cackling stopped. “Huh?”

The last of fiery debris filled up the grave.

* * *

_ “WAAH—!”  _

Heart against his ribcage, sweat against his pillow, numbness a chill that iced through his body, Osomatsu’s eyes snapped open and he felt like hurling. His body betrayed his brain’s orders to move, head thrumming in blaring drums of agony, and Osomatsu was just frozen, frozen remembering the fire rapidly consuming him, his own mountain of a gravestone, Jyushimatsu and Homura’s tears, Ichimatsu’s laughter through combustion...

His promise to change.

Walking away from Ichimatsu or begging for mercy in a pit of pyre, he had made the promise to change. And now out in freedom, in the supportive barricade of his own bedroom, ridded of any ghosts and phantoms wanting the same goal as him, he might as well keep to his word. Friends, knowing or not of the mysterious chain of events that had made Osomatsu’s evening, deserved to feel the chimes of Christmas miracles, and though Osomatsu was a stranger to that concept, perhaps effort would make a difference.

As he tried to recapture his breath, to stop the gurgling acid from escaping his stomach, he noticed the golden welcome of sunlight began to shine through his window, the sound of Christmas morning in Akatsuka Ward abuzz from outside. Carols were once again springing to life as the laughter of children resonated from outside, greetings of “Merry Christmas!” speaking with jovial cadences.

Christmas Day.

Shutting his eyes one more time and calming his nerves, Osomatsu pushed for composure as he urged himself off the bed. He was still wrapped with the comfort provided by his red hoodie, but he felt anything but secure. His own inner demons hadn’t exactly finished fighting, only howled in horror at Ichimatsu’s summons of fire, then returned to a quarrel that bombarded his insides. Osomatsu sighed as he sagged against his knees, listening to the thoughts echoing in his skull.

What exactly was he going to do now? Where was he going to go? How will he be able to face anyone knowing what intentions lay within them? How was he going to approach them knowing how much they truly spited him? How was he going to be able to handle any of that when even his own cowardice was lifting, manipulating his confidence to subdue?

Something caught the corner of his eye, and Osomatsu spun around. Perched on top of his dresser was a rectangular frame, decorated with tiny green Matsuno pine symbols atop a paint-job of their iconic rainbow. As Osomatsu came towards the dresser, the image was one to stop him in his tracks as all he could do was look at the faces flashed on-screen.

It was all seventeen of them the day they finished premiering the first three episodes of the series—the Matsuno sextuplets, all with their own unique features marking them from one another; their parents, smiling boldly; Totoko, Iyami, Chibita, Dekapan, Dayon, Hatabou, Nyaa, the Riceballs...All of them were happy—genuinely happy, fraudulence not even an option at all for any of them.

But it was Osomatsu standing in the middle of the whole group with the biggest smile ever imaginable, carrying a picture of Fujio Akatsuka’s face itself.

Then at the bottom of their whole frame, scribbled with the flawless handwriting of Karamatsu, was:

_ ‘There’s always time for change.’ _

And for the first time since the strange night had begun, Osomatsu let his waterworks lose.

* * *

“That’s too much sequins even for Christmas, niisan,” Todomatsu grouched, pouting. “Why do you think we should even do that?”

Karamatsu blinked in confusion as he lowered his grip on the streamers. “What ever do you mean, my brother? It’s just the right bedazzling, is it not? We need not too much glitters as the emotion of the season is felt through our hearts! It’s not about display, it’s about the disappearance of dismay.”

“You know what? The best Christmas gift we can all ever have from you is you not spitting out that dumb alliteration on Christmas Day,” Ichimatsu hissed, shooting daggers through his glare. 

Todomatsu added, “And it’s not worth it we—”

“Oi, stop it,” Choromatsu ordered lazily, unwilling to have to tamper with their banter. “Where’s Jyushimatsu and Osomatsu-niisan? I know he hates Christmas parties but it wouldn’t really be fair to begin without him, right? No, actually, it’s fine. I just don’t want him to yell at anyone.”

Wordlessly, Karamatsu, Todomatsu, and Ichimatsu exchanged looks.

The door slammed open and Dekapan rushed in, panting as he frantically entered the room. “Osomatsu’s here, dasu! I saw him enter the Pierrot lobby, and he’s got a basket!”

Everyone only got more questions from that announcement. “Eh?” Choromatsu frowned in bafflement, linking his arms. “What do you mean?”

“He had a basket of  _ fruits and snacks!”  _ Dekapan exclaimed, arms flailing. “It was topped off with a ribbon and everything too, dasu! He didn’t look like he was so eager to carry it, but I’ve never seen Osomatsu carry something so generous, dasu! I saw apples, grapes, watermelons, pineapples, bananas, and more! I think there were snacks there too, dasu, like takoyaki, oden, onigiri—”

The rest of the room’s attention was called.

“Where’d he go?” Chibita asked, pausing from setting up plates by the main table.

“Um...” Dekapan ran a hand through his shiny scalp. “By the canteen area, dasu? Maybe there’s a pretty cook or something that he thought of giving the basket to, dasu. Maybe he’s been keeping secrets from us, dasu?”

“Tch. Anything’s possible with that idjit,” Chibita grumbled. 

Nods, but the room pondered on. Karamatsu, Todomatsu, and Ichimatsu were the trio with the most voiceless conversations between one another. 

But being clueless on the matter, they all continued on with their roles for now, others fixing the utensils and plates while others hung decorations. Others prepared music while their Christmas tree was being arranged by the rest, Osomatsu-san themed Christmas balls being placed with plushies of the sextuplets. Gifts of all shapes and textures were wrapped and placed beneath the tree, while at its top nestled a plastic, golden star gifted to Todomatsu specifically by the God of Mixers following the declaration of the youngest’s title as the Star of Hope.

And yet as they resumed with this routine, Osomatsu never arrived at the room. Everyone worked with the suspicion of his arrival in any possible second, but he never did, and the anxiety killing them over their anticipation had been too much to handle when an hour had passed since Dekapan’s announcement. All the food was arranged at the table as stomachs growled, and the unmoving door had become a joke as they cursed at its stoic, indecipherable nature.

“Damn it!” Chibita finally yelled, throwing his fists up before slamming them against a chair. “Enough’s enough! Someone go tell that lazy-ass moron to get in here already before we starve from waiting!”

“The food will get cold, jo,” Hatabou added.

“And we’re about fifteen minutes behind schedule,” Nyaa stated, glancing at her watch from where she lounged on the sofa.

“And where’s Jyushimatsu?” Choromatsu repeated, concern dotting his expression as he set himself beside the idol on the couch. “I hope he’s doing okay. We all know he and Homura with Eitarou-kun are...” He didn’t need to complete it—they knew well.

_ “Ugh!! Blast it!”  _ Totoko screamed out, releasing her rage through a kick that Dayon unfortunately had the experience of receiving.  _ “Someone get out of here and get that red loser! Chibita’s right—there’s no more waiting here! Hurry the @#$% up!” _

Karamatsu started, “Riceballs—”

_ “Hai,  _ we would be glad to!” they said in unison, accompanying one another from the side of the music box and towards the door eagerly.

But as Ume grabbed the handle and twisted it open before pulling, it was the right and perfect timing when finding Osomatsu standing at the other side of the door, a hand stretched slightly as if he too were about to push it open. He blinked at the same time the Riceballs did, and for a moment the yelling earlier and the possibility that he heard any of them rendered them all quiet.

“A-Ah, Osomatsu-san!” Shake greeted, moving themself and gently pushing Ume away from the doorframe. The mechanical pair started walking backwards and out of Osomatsu’s way before getting their backs parallel to the wall, as awkward as the rest.

Osomatsu walked into the room, unreadable as he  _ did  _ carry the basket Dekapan had mentioned earlier in his spare arm, the fruits and snacks in there worthy for drooling. But then as he let himself deeper into the room, Jyushimatsu and Homura were at his trail, the former carrying Eitarou in his arms as the latter assisted by carrying his crutch for him. Both were dressed in comfortable clothes themed for celebration, Jyushimatsu in a yellow Santa costume with Homura in a comfortable white sweater with her usual rust skirt. The biggest difference was that she had a headband sprouting reindeer horns on her head, her braid ended with a red-and-green ribbon.

And Eitarou was dressed in a yellow Jyushimatsu hoodie, a necklace of sleigh bells hanging around his neck. And he was first to break the silence when his eyes turned to stars, and he cried out, “Woah! This looks so fun! Thanks for letting me come to this celebration, Osomatsu!”

“E-Eh?!” Osomatsu raised a finger to his lips. “O-Oi, maybe don’t be so vocal about it for now, Ei—”

“I haven’t seen so many people in a celebration like this in so long!” Eitarou continued, excitedly wobbling himself in Jyushimatsu’s arms. “I thought Jyushimatsu was going to be the only one who can see something like this! Thanks for persuading me and Homura to come!”

Osomatsu flushed bright red. “E-Eitarou-kun!”

“So these are what your other brothers look like, huh?” Eitarou asked in wonderment. “Wow, you all really  _ do  _ look alike! I can’t believe I get to see you in person! You’ve made our Christmas even better, Osomatsu!”

_ “Eitarou-kun!”  _ Osomatsu scolded.

Nobody else interrupted this patch of unsuspecting revelations, only Karamatsu when he gulped and stepped forward towards Osomatsu, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder. “Osomatsu...”

At this even Eitarou grew quiet, mouth forming a small O as they all witnessed Karamatsu’s bold approach.

Osomatsu rolled his eyes, but he was still undeniably rosy—it spread over his cheeks and nose. “What? If you’re thinking about the basket I brought it for all of you. I’m not good at gifts, but usually gluttony’s a Christmas thing, right? So I got a basket.” He extended it over to Karamatsu, preventing their eyes from meeting. “So here. Merry Christmas, Karamatsu. Everyone. Thanks for doing ‘Osomatsu-san’ with me.”

Everyone was in awe. Karamatsu didn’t take the gift, only gestured towards Choromatsu and called him forward before saying to Osomatsu with a hinted smirk, “Is that all, brother? Are you here only to drop off this holiday kindness for our commemoration? Will you not stay with us to enjoy this party?”

“Stay, Osomatsu!” Eitarou cheered, flapping his floppy sleeves. “You invited us, and are the star of the show! It won’t make sense if you leave early!”

Osomatsu blanched, the basket growing heavy as he let his arms weaken. “Ah, I don’t really have to. I don’t want to ruin your fun.”

More surprised faces entered the scene, and it was Jyushimatsu’s turn to speak. “Stay, niisan! There’s no way you’ll ruin our fun! Christmas is for everyone to enjoy no matter what, and we’re all a family here! This Christmas party wouldn’t be complete without you!”

“Hah, true,” Todomatsu quipped in smugly. “Besides, it’s not like there’s anywhere else you need to be, right? And admit it, you’d rather spend time and have fun with us than spend a lonely holiday morning alone in that lame apartment of yours. Ugh, not even your mirror is clean.”

Osomatsu remembered the pink ghost that had rearranged his hair in front of said mirror, and at the thought of it Osomatsu almost snorted at that. He was only being held back by their invitations, the choice that jumped inside him and leaving him with no idea on what he needed to do—

“We were waiting for you and Jyushimatsu too, anyway,” Ichimatsu admitted lowly, but loud enough for the eldest son to hear. 

“And the giver of such a delicious gift needs to hang around some more as well!” Karamatsu licked his lips lovingly.

Choromatsu took the basket, pupils pinned on it as he took a step closer to the first-born. “Look, Osomatsu-niisan...You can stay. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to—we aren’t forcing you to. But I think...” He let a bit of air leave his nose. “I think it’s best you do.”

Why? Because it was the right thing to do to invite someone you hate to a party so they aren’t left out? So they can see if he acts like a selfish lunatic again? So they can determine how they would judge him when the time comes? Tch, perhaps everything he did, no matter how much he tried to make a difference, would always lead to that giant tombstone destined for cruelty. 

No, don’t think that. Don’t think of it that way. And yet this was the only direction his thoughts took him.

And he hated it.

“Look, guys,” he said, letting the basket slide from his hands into Choromatsu’s hold. “I...I  _ want  _ to stay,” he at last, confessed. “I want to because...Because I want to spend time with all of you. Not as someone you work with because of some anime, but because...because I want to celebrate Christmas with you as your brother.” He knew he was flushing again—he quickly got to his knees and bowed low, pleading as his shame pooled in his heart and his wishes for change came to reality. 

“Please let me stay! I know I’ve been a very greedy man! But please understand that I want to be able to go back to how things used to be! I want to celebrate with everyone else happy! I want to rekindle our bond as brothers and friends again! I want to help you all whenever you need it! I just don’t want the idiocy of a popular cartoon to end what friendships were made before!” He took a deep breath. “So please...let me stay. Don’t feel forced to say yes because Karamatsu and the others want me to.  _ Please  _ allow me to stay and celebrate Christmas with you.”

He had begun hating the buildup to this confession the moment he stepped inside and got everyone shocked. Sometimes silence meant judgement, mockery, claims of identifying a fool among fools. Sometimes, it signified sarcasm and promises as hollow as can be. Sometimes they came with pity, but involvement came with its own flaws that being part was a useless risk. Sometimes, it came with nothing, and having nothing meant that  _ he  _ meant nothing, and all his effort was just some laughable action that had no meaning whatsoever.

This was difficult. And it cut deep.

“Ah, I’d let him stay,” a voice entering the room said.

Osomatsu lifted his head. “Mom? Dad?”

“Of course you can stay,” Matsuyo said with a chuckle, removing her coat and folding it in her arms. “We know you want to spend time with your brothers and friends. We may spend less time with each other, Osomatsu, but we’re still your parents. We know things that you lot are still discovering. And we know what you’re feeling right now. We know that regret. It’s the same as wishing you were turned into a child again, and wanting to return to who you used to be knowing about what great things we could have left behind.”

Matsuzo nodded. “Besides. We’ve gotten reports of your behavior last night. We know you’re telling the truth.”

“Huh?” Osomatsu rubbed his eyes. “You  _ know  _ about the ghosts?”

“Well, yeah.” Matsuzo casually shrugged. “Everything their child does always gets reported to their parents, right? What else did you expect?”

“What’s this?” Chibita questioned.

“Don’t ask,” Todomatsu replied, nudging him a little. “Hey, everyone, why not stop staring at niisan and try to do whatever you were doing before?”

“Yes!” The room moved with uniformity, and all eyes were directed away from the son and his parents and music began to drift and the smell of food began to waft upwards. Jyushimatsu and Homura let themselves in as they too started to join in with the festivities, Jyushimatsu joining his other brothers as Homura came to Totoko and Nyaa’s side. Eitarou was on the sofa as the robots initiated conversation, and the rest of them blended into the official start of their party and came to end the transition of Osomatsu’s arrival. 

Matsuyo stepped towards her son, taking him to the side of the room and allowing her hand to rub itself over his hair. Leaning to his ear, she whispered, “Just stay, Osomatsu. We know you want to. And your friends here, your brothers, it might take time for them to acknowledge your change of heart, but when they do, I promise it’ll be worth it. Just don’t forget that what’s more important is you choose not to fail in redemption, and you strive to make up for the mistakes you’ve made. It might sound cheesy, but it’s not. That’s more important than them accepting you. Because  _ you’re  _ learning to accept your flaws, and make up for them. Got it?” She giggled. 

It was no wonder his parents had been the missing pieces of this puzzle, their lack of activity in his visions always thinking him with theories. But like any parent would do, they had watched over him as well, in some magical, fantastical way, and at some capacity managed to guide the three ghosts of their sons into taking him to the right paths that would direct him to trek towards a new road.

He loved his parents—they were majestic people. He loved his brothers, never giving up on him. And he loved his friends, helping him bring Akatsuka’s creations to life. The Ghost of Christmas Future was right—he really wasn’t going to be anything without any of them.

Chuckle watery, Osomatsu reached up to wipe his eyes as the floor beneath him went misty.

“Trust your mother on this one,” Matsuzo added in a low volume with a wink. “Just enjoy yourself for now and be who you always are—a fun-loving boy who puts calmness into everything. Why not be that blessed side of yours in this party too, huh? Ooh, and Osomatsu, stay composed for us for now, huh? It’s Christmas—the last thing ol’ Saint Nicholas would want to see is someone crying.”

“Sorry,” Osomatsu sniffed, clearing his eyes before he pushed forward one of his cheeky grins. “Thanks, Mom, Dad. Merry Christmas.”

His parents warmly hugged him, smiled at him.

As he was released, Osomatsu looked over the party again, pinpointing his brothers in the room and finding them in a small group at the edge of the room. Although he was still incredibly anxious, he brushed that aside as he jogged over towards them, carefully identified whatever space exposed Choromatsu’s vulnerability before Osomatsu whacked his hand over Choromatsu’s shoulder with the ferocity of a spatula to a mosquito.

_ “GAH!!”  _ The green-clothed man squealed out.

“Guys, run! Choromatsu’s tagged!” Osomatsu cried, running off from them as he laughed like a child had taken over his body. “Choromatsu’s it! Choromatsu’s it!”

_ “Huh?! It?!” _ Choromatsu was appalled. “Wha—?!”

“Ahh! Don’t let Choromatsu get you!” Karamatsu quickly joined in knowingly, grabbing Jyushimatsu’s sleeve and yanking him after as they too started sprinting away from Choromatsu.

Choromatsu was still disbelieved. “What on ea—?!”

“Quickly, niisan!” Todomatsu guffawed, pushing Ichimatsu ahead of him as he too started to accelerate. “While Choromatsu-niisan’s still surprised! He’s an idiot when he’s still in that state!” He stuck out his tongue, and he and Ichimatsu burst out laughing as they caught up with their other brothers, hiding at the opposite side of the wide party room with the rest of its inhabitants watching the brothers dart back and forth.

Choromatsu’s nerves popped. “Why you little—!” 

He raced after them, and soon enough all six of the Matsuno brothers were rushing past the other guests in attempt to hide from the third son. Dishes held in Dekapan’s hands nearly tipped over as Karamatsu and Ichimatsu ducked under him, Dayon nearly tangled himself with the microphone wires when Todomatsu and Choromatsu had taken a little circular tag around him, and Nyaa had nearly tripped over Jyushimatsu if not for Choromatsu having caught her on time. But besides that, the sextuplets were in a merry game of a chaotic chase, and Osomatsu couldn’t be happier about that.

He didn’t notice Totoko smile at that sight.

Fuming, Choromatsu yelled out at their five-minute mark,  _ “Osomatsu! Todomatsu! You two are in the worst trouble when I get my hands on you—!” _

_ Clang! _

“Ugh! Watch the cables, dammit!” Chibita barked, throwing himself against the wall when Choromatsu and Osomatsu had ran between them.

Choromatsu stopped. Choromatsu walked towards Chibita. Choromatsu grinned. Then Choromatsu slapped his hand over Chibita’s bald head. 

“Tag. You’re it.”

“Oh dang!” Jyushimatsu wailed with a laugh, clamping Homura’s hand and shielding Dayon and Ume who were standing behind them. “Run from Chibita, everyone!”

“Christmas games, da-jo! Run from Chibita, jo!” Hatabou hollered, getting to his own two feet..

“Go, Jyushimatsu! Homura! Outrun him for me!” Eitarou called out from the couch. “And I will be a spectator!”

“Good idea, Eitarou-kun, dasu!” Dekapan flashed the small boy a thumbs-up.

“Eh?!  _ EEHH?! Damn it, ya idjits!” _

Soon everyone else was running too.

* * *

“You sure I can still come inside, Todomatsu? I’m really late—I don’t even know if you have room for one more.”

“No worries, Atsushi,” the other side of the phone said between chews. “We’re just having lunch right now, then we’ll get back to games later. You should get over here while we still have some crab. The Riceballs are really good cooks, so you should definitely give their preparations a try.”

“Aww, hah...Sure, I’ll be right there. Thanks again, Todomatsu.” 

Atsushi swiped his phone locked as he crossed the streets, and upon arrival in front of the Pierrot building the ground beside him suddenly opened up without warning. 

Glowing red light radiated from the crack in the trembling ground, edges carved like numerous teeth, before the gap spat out a tall and lean man with a purple suit onto the snow with his back facing upwards. The ground sewed itself shut soon after, smoothening into concrete and snow again as if it had never been there at all.

Atsushi didn’t try to let shock take over him as he spun towards the man, fists prepared to sail in case fighting was a requirement for the situation. But noticing the teeth sticking out from the man’s mouth, the curling French-style mustache, the...fact that his pants were torn exactly where his boxers were, a fight seemed like the last thing this situation needed.

“Iyami-san, right?” Atsushi asked, pointing uncertainly. “I, uh, thought you died recently.”

“Me did, yes,” Iyami groaned, face still planted to the ground. “But the Shinigami salesman and the devil himself found me a despicable member of the underworld and didn’t want to tolerate  _ moi.  _ So they gave my life back and chose to return me to the living world, zansu.”

Atsushi didn’t comment.

Iyami didn’t realize he was lying down at the center of the street until the bus came rolling over his body.

Atsushi pretended he didn’t see anything as he stiffly walked towards Studio Pierrot.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all again for browsing this fanfic I made! 💕💕 I hope we can all enjoy the rest of 2020 at our best and look forward to our NEETs every Monday (and Tuesday) uwu (as long as golf isn’t in the way asdfghjkl)
> 
> Again, Merry Christmas 🎄🎁!!! SHEEEHHH!!! ❤️💙💚💜💛💖


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